Dr.

Scalpel in hand, she smiles meekly
Glint to curves, manuals to stance
A camel her choice of carriage
Veiled by birthright yet calm
The charm of strangers
Stares that seek out her windows
Only to find she’s not home

A distant land, his fingers wonder
Tapping keys to relay messages
No piegons for him or ancient parchment
But the internet, the relevant
Forget handwriting, this is permanent

If the spiritual preceded the real
If words were emotions that peel
Layers of mystery
only presence can quench
If all our insecurities were just masks
that fell away to a kind touch
That wasn’t even enough to feel
Understood and accepted
It would mean everything

She asks, “How have you been?
Thought you were gone for good
or bad, I’m not certain.”
He looks at the glistening steel
A faint flicker in her gaze and it’s gone
He retrieves the blade and grins
“No need for that, I’m fine.”

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